Desolation Road
by speedcochrane
Summary: Sam is still dealing with Dean’s death two years later. As his nightmares become more and more intense, it’s clear that they’re not just ordinary nightmares.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Desolation Road

Author: Speed Cochrane

Rating: PG13 - M (depending on my mood LOL)

Fandom: Supernatural

Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'No Rest for the Wicked' & 'Lazarus Rising' (4.01 premiere) So don't read if you don't want to know any details from the premiere.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer,

Disclaimer: As much as I sincerely wish I owned at least one of these characters, I don't so if you sue, it'll be a waste of time.

Summary: Sam is still dealing with Dean's death two years later. As his nightmares become more and more intense, it's clear that they're not just ordinary nightmares.

A/N: This is Challenge 4 for the FCG.

Criteria

Topic: Summertime.

Must be: 1,000-8,000 words in length (can be multiple chapters).

Must Include: The film "Iron Man" that's still in theatres now.

Must be rated: MA or lower. .

Must Include the line: "I'm really starting to adjust to..."

* * *

Desolation Road

Daytime Television _does_ suck.

Sam Winchester picked up the remote and pointed it toward the old 70s style television that was sitting on the dusty motel room dresser. He felt as if his brain was rotting away slowly with each passing day. If only the motels he could afford had more than 3 channels.

He stood from the couch and initiated a long stretch before returning to the large wooden wall opposite his bed. It was filled with newspaper articles, internet printouts and pieces of maps, all tacked together in a disorganized fashion. They reeked of the desperation Sam had begun to feel when traveling to each city looking for someone, anyone who would know how to help him. Whoever told Sam that hunting demons is an art form was sorely mistaken.

Nothing on the wall seemed to instantly call out to him as to where he should go next. He felt utterly lost, completely interrupted with dead ends. Old contacts had little to no information and he hadn't heard from Ruby since Lillith possessed her body. Sam shook his head. Try explaining that one to the neighbors.

The summertime heat of Montana squeezed its way through every crack of the motel room wood, drenching Sam in an uncomfortable state. There was nothing he could do to escape it and his extreme boredom only intensified it. He contemplated renting 'Iron Man' from the local town's video store but then remembered his motel room had no cable, let alone a DVD player.

Sam turned to his bed and stared at the mustard yellow sheets. Sleeping seemed like the next best option as he now did most of his hunting at night but lately, the dreams offered little solace to him. They were nothing short of horror movies night after night, reminding him of what he was constantly up against. However, he ultimately needed rest --his body told him so.

Removing his shirt, he climbed into bed and stared up at the ceiling, silently praying to whoever could hear him that the heat would end and his dreams would offer some kind of peace. After all, he figured he deserved as much.

However, as he began to drift away, images of burning trees, the scent of melted flesh and hoarse screams through an unpalatable land filled his mind. He found himself suddenly awake, unaware of his dreamscape. To him, it became reality. His surroundings were a sickly darkened green and scarlet embers thumped under his feet, like the beating of hearts. Vicious winds danced through his hair, creating more heat than the wretched, stinking air itself. It was a scent he came to recognize easily enough. Sulfur.

The young hunter's eyes darted from side to side. Despite the distant screams, the place seemed eerily silent and abandoned. He stepped gracefully along the dark cracked ground, the crunching resonance making it seem like a violation. And even though he was the one watching the landscape, he felt eyes fixed on his position, like they were watching him back.

As he continued across hills and valleys of dusty, dehydrated earth under a vomit-colored sky, the heat grew more intense to where he could barely endure it. Skin began to flake and curl from his arms but he felt the desperate need to continue his trek. The moans and screams became increasingly riotous as Sam found himself before a grandiose lake. However it was not like any lake he had seen before. No, this one was on fire.

Orange-yellow flames darted upward as if they desired escape. Waves of heat encompassed Sam every time the lake swirled and swayed under the flames. He knelt slowly to the edge of it, the inferno eating away at his flesh, unforgiving . Beneath the fire, Sam could see thousands of plagued figures all reaching frightfully toward him. Were they people?

A strong hand suddenly propelled up and snatched his arm, yanking him into the flames.

* * *

Eyes open, sweat gleaming off his face, Sam had awoken panicked. He found himself staring right into a concerned Bobby's face. The older man's tired expression was also wrought with concern.

"Geez kid, were you going to sleep all day?" he asked, letting go of Sam's arm. He turned and walked over to the wall, observing what Sam had tacked to it.

"What are you doing here Bobby?" Sam asked, still reeling from the intense dream.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for three days. You forget how to turn on a phone?"

Sam frowned in response and grabbed his shirt from the edge of the bed.

"It's in the car," he responded as he walked into the bathroom. Mustard colored walls inhabited it as well, only with a more floral theme to it. He turned on the sink and ran the water as hard as he could, placing his hands under the cool temperature.

"I've been talkin' to some contacts," Bobby started, "none of them have seen or heard from Ruby."

Sam tilted his head. He could have told him that.

"So then why were you trying to get a hold of me?" he asked, slightly irritated.

Bobby turned his visage to the bathroom with a 'don't you backtalk me boy' look. He'd been getting the edge of Sam's sharp tongue lately and he was getting tired of it.

"I thought you'd like to know what else I found out. Word is there's a new guy in town named Castiel. He claims he knows Ruby and he's also looking for you."

Sam turned his head to Bobby, questioning him with his eyes.

"Why would this Castiel guy be looking for me?" he asked.

Bobby simply shrugged, "Maybe because you knew Ruby."

"Well is he a demon?" Sam asked, angrier this time. He was beginning to grow impatient waiting for Bobby to spit out the information. He needed to quench his thirst for answers.

"Maybe, maybe not. Nobody knows. At least not any of the people I've been talking to. No one's ever heard of him. It's like he just dropped out of the heavens. Or well, maybe the pit."

Sam nodded, remembering his dream. He lowered his head to the sink again, continuingly running his hands under the cool water. Something then caught his attention. His forearm was bruised. Bobby seemed to notice his demeanor because he was staring at Sam's arm as well.

"You get that during a hunt?" he asked.

"Bobby, how hard did you grab me?"

The older hunter seemed shocked that he would imply such a thing.

"I barely touched you," he answered, visibly offended.

Sam twisted his arm around to see the rest of the mark. It was a large bruise, in the shape of someone's hand. A sight he dreaded because that would mean…

"Bobby, I think I should let you know what's been goin' on with me lately."

* * *

The older hunter placed his faded green hat onto the small coffee table opposite from the dingy couch. He ran a hand across his head to clear away the sweat and then leaned back into his chair. He looked confused, to say the least.

"So… you're saying your nightmares are real," he managed to voice before releasing a nervous breath.

"Stranger things have happened to me," Sam offered, "I don't know why but maybe it has to do with this new guy that's in town."

Bobby nodded genuinely.

"And you're dreaming about-

"Hell," Sam interrupted, "uh, at least I think I am. That's what it looked like."

"How do you know what _Hell_ looks like? Did they send along a brochure for comparison?"

Sam frowned. "No, but they sent along this bruise and I'm pretty sure it didn't come from anything here."

Bobby contemplated what the younger hunter was saying. He'd known Sam to have visions, but they were caused by a demon hell-bent - for a lack of better words - on playing the human race like a fiddle and even on one occasion, they had investigated a case involving African Dream Root but this was a new one, even for him.

"Maybe it's a message?" Sam proposed.

"Maybe," Bobby answered solemnly. "Tell you what kid, I'll go find out some more information on this Castiel guy and you work on figuring out this…dream nonsense," he finished.

Sam always hated it when people called him 'kid'. He was anything but and he wished the other hunters would recognize that. He was well-seasoned and confident enough to deal with anything thrown his way. Over the two years since Dean's death, he'd grown to trust himself and his abilities to hunt. He was _not_ a kid.

"Sure," Sam answered.

Bobby removed his hat from the table and gingerly placed it atop his head. He positioned a strong hand on Sam's shoulder before exiting the motel room.

* * *

He could feel the darkness around his entire being. It was oppressive and unclean. Sam opened his eyes and found himself at the edge of the fire lake which had simmered exponentially from the last time he was there. It seemed quiet. It wasn't a peaceful quiet, but one that indicated to him that there was a nervousness apparent in the very toxic air he breathed. Again, Sam felt a violation. Hell seemed to be wrought with more cerebral sensations than physical manifestations of them. Maybe he just hadn't gotten the full package.

He became increasingly aware that it wasn't a dream and began to recall his conversation with Bobby. It seemed like as good a place as any to investigate the purpose behind the strange phenomena that plagued him.

"Okay!" Sam yelled with outstretched arms to no one in particular. "I'm here! What do you want!"

The land seemed still at first but underneath the bubbling abyss of souls, slight whispers could suddenly be heard. They spoke erratically, imperfect in form and from what Sam could tell, there were hundreds of different languages. He caught bits of French, German, Russian and what seemed to be Latin.

"I'm going to need someone to speak up, I don't understand!" Sam yelled, not exactly sure where he was directing it. He wasn't even sure if they were saying actual words.

"_Il vient lui obtenir," _some of them whispered.

"_Er kommt, ihn zu nehmen," _others interjected.

Sam shook his head, obviously not getting through to whoever or whatever they were.

"English would be helpful!" he yelled, almost laughing at himself. It's not every day someone walks into Hell and asks for someone to be more accommodating. He wished he'd paid attention during his language classes in college.

"_He's coming to take him,"_ one of the voices hissed_._

Sam turned his attention to the familiar language.

"_Take who?"_ he probed.

SLAM. Sam's eyes snapped open. He was suddenly back to Earth, staring at the grungy ceiling fan above his bed.

* * *

TBC...Read on.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Desolation Road

Author: Speed Cochrane

Rating: PG13 - M (depending on my mood LOL)

Fandom: Supernatural

Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'No Rest for the Wicked' & 'Lazarus Rising' (4.01 premiere) So don't read if you don't want to know any details from the premiere.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer,

Disclaimer: As much as I sincerely wish I owned at least one of these characters, I don't so if you sue, it'll be a waste of time.

Summary: Sam is still dealing with Dean's death two years later. As his nightmares become more and more intense, it's clear that they're not just ordinary nightmares.

A/N: This is Challenge #4 for the FCG.

Criteria

Topic: Summertime.

Must be: 1,000-8,000 words in length (can be multiple chapters).  
Must Include: The film "Iron Man" that's still in theatres now.  
Must be rated: MA or lower. .  
Must Include the line: "I'm really starting to adjust to..."

* * *

Chapter 2

He lifted his head, questioning in his mind as to the origin of the noise. He sighed when he saw the door wide open, banging against the sides of the motel. The dusted breeze entered the room, scratching at Sam's eyes. All that was missing was a tumbleweed.

As he gently closed the door, he started to wonder how it managed to open itself on its own. The wind, after all, was coming from outside, not inside. Anxiety formed all around him. He'd forgotten to lock the door. Nervously, he turned around to investigate the interior of his room when his eyes fell upon a figure standing near the old television set, back turned.

Startled, Sam quickly grabbed for the .45 caliber pistol lying underneath his damp pillow.

"Don't be afraid Sam," the figure stated casually.

Sam eyed it suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"I realize I must have interrupted a very important sleep… at 2:30 in the afternoon, but it was urgent that I find you," the male voice explained calmly.

Sam paused slightly. "Castiel?"

The figure smiled. He turned to Sam gracefully and nodded. It was difficult to describe what or who he looked like exactly because frankly, he looked like _everyone_. He was not so much a compilation from every person on the planet but he was innocuous enough to be unrecognizable.

"I see you've heard of me," he answered.

Sam squinted, still suspicious. "You could say that," he started, "I'm guessing you're the one responsible for whatever's going on. I mean that's why you've been looking for me, right?"

The man tilted his head to the side like an inquisitive puppy, completely innocent from the accusatory transgression but curious as to what it entailed.

"And what exactly is going on?"

Sam frowned. He was tired of being played by self-important supernatural beings. They thought all humans were stupid and insignificant and the lot that didn't want to rip Sam to shreds liked to patronize him with games. Why couldn't he ever have a normal conversation?

"I started having these weirdass dreams the exact time you dropped into town and I don't believe in coincidences," he explained cautiously.

"You Winchesters don't believe in much do you," Castiel offered, amused. "Except of course what you can prove. Though I'll admit, it's much easier speaking with you. I didn't get this far with your brother."

Sam's eyes widened. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

"You spoke to Dean?" Sam questioned forcefully, almost offended.

"Attempted to," the handsome creature amended. "You'd think spending the rest of his days in the bowels down below would make him a little more open."

Sam knew demons lied and alternatively twisted the truth but he wasn't completely sure that the being before him was even a demon. He also wasn't prepared to up and believe him straight away.

Castiel moved his left shoulder in a graceful circle and flexed his back muscles, causing a light cracking sound. "I'm really starting to adjust to this form. The human body is an impressive piece of biological technology."

Sam's brow lifted. That was the first time he'd ever heard someone say that, especially coming from something so obviously not of this world.

"So you've been there," Sam observed, "to Hell I mean."

"Besides Dean, I wasn't exactly the most popular guest there," he responded, the amusement still twinkling in his eyes. "But then, you've seen it too. In your dreams. Sorry, I didn't exactly leave you with the best impression. I stirred up the waters, so-to-speak. It should be back to normal by now."

Sam slowly placed the gun onto the dresser and sat down in the chair. He didn't feel threatened, but curious now.

"So what do you need _me_ for?" he asked.

"I need you to go back to dream land and talk some sense into him," Castiel responded with a great seriousness.

The young Winchester stared the being in the eye for a moment, sizing him up. Even if he did go back and manage to find Dean, there's no telling what would happen. He didn't know if Dean had already become so far gone to even speak to and who's to say Dean would even believe it was him? So many questions were placed on Sam's head, including the most pressing one…

"What do you want with Dean?"

Castiel stared right back at Sam. "My orders are to help him."

"Help him _how_?" Sam retorted, still getting the feeling that the conversation wasn't moving as fluidly as one would hope.

"I tried to find some way through your laws to explain the situation. But the simplest answer is, he doesn't belong in Hell and he has work to do. I won't bore you with the gory details. He may not listen to me but there's a good chance he'll at least get through a conversation with you. That's why I've made it so you can go there."

"Right," Sam started, "but if I'm going to talk to him, I'm going to need more than 'he has work to do'. I don't know who you are or who you're working for and that doesn't exactly make for a good negotiation. I'm just sayin', give me something to work with here. You laid all of this stuff on the table and you expect me to just up and go on a whild goose chase for you."

Castiel offered an understanding nod and pulled out a chair. He gently sat down and sighed. He seemed troubled and confused by how Sam reacted but he remained patient.

"There just isn't time for a big explanation, Sam," he explained. "There's a very delicate window here, and-

"Two years seems like a hell of a lot of time to wait before doing something about it," interrupted Sam, angrily.

"Then let's stop wasting time."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Desolation Road

Author: Speed Cochrane

Rating: PG13 - M (depending on my mood LOL)

Fandom: Supernatural

Spoilers: Major spoilers for 'No Rest for the Wicked' & 'Lazarus Rising' (4.01 premiere) So don't read if you don't want to know any details from the premiere.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer,

Disclaimer: As much as I sincerely wish I owned at least one of these characters, I don't so if you sue, it'll be a waste of time.

Summary: Sam is still dealing with Dean's death two years later. As his nightmares become more and more intense, it's clear that they're not just ordinary nightmares.

A/N: This is Challenge #4 for the FCG.

Criteria

Topic: Summertime.

Must be: 1,000-8,000 words in length (can be multiple chapters).  
Must Include: The film "Iron Man" that's still in theatres now.  
Must be rated: MA or lower. .  
Must Include the line: "I'm really starting to adjust to..."

**Total word count: 4,502**

* * *

Chapter 3

It was the stupidest thing he'd ever agree to do for someone he barely knew. But there was something about Castiel that made him want to help, what little way he could and for all intents and purposes, it was for Dean. How was he even supposed to find him?

"Oh, right," Sam exclaimed aloud. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace Castiel gave to him. It was similar to the amulet Sam gave to Dean one Christmas when they were children and Dean wore it around his neck up until his death. It was in the shape of a scarab beetle, an ancient Egyptian charm which was said to be as valuable to the Egyptians as the cross was to Christians. It was wildly known as a symbol of rebirth and resurrection and commonly used for religious and ceremonial rituals.

The toxic land started to feed on Sam's already tired flesh, telling him he was close to the lake of fire from which all of his other strange encounters transpired. And like Castiel had told him, he held out the necklace like a 'spirit finder'. It was similar to an amulet that would spin and move whenever electromagnetic frequencies from spirits were near or a more primitive piece of technology made from rods that would cross under the same stress. Sam figured it was a stupid way to find his brother because there were countless other spirits around but for some reason, Castiel knew it would work. And it did.

Sam turned his head to the cracked, rotting beach that contoured the lake. He was no longer the only person standing there.

"Dean?" Sam asked in almost a whisper, afraid of what the response might be.

Dean looked exactly as Sam had remembered him, only his regard was much different. It was disturbed, tormented and angry. He was staring down at the lake like a child facing his first deep-water swimming lesson. Sam half expected him to be a skeleton with flesh hanging everywhere but it wasn't the case.

"Dean, it's me…"

"Sammy," Dean whispered hoarsely.

Sam nodded as he crept over to Dean's position. The whole situation seemed strange, like he had waited this long to see his brother again but it was revolving around him too fast. It all seemed… wrong. He didn't want to see his brother like this. There was a deep darkness all around him, almost thick enough to see. He wasn't the same.

"_Have you ever actually watched Daytime TV? It's terrible," Dean exclaimed weakly in his hospital bed, staring at the television hanging from the ceiling._

"_I talked to your doctor," Sam replied. Dean however, didn't seem to be listening. _

"_That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm going to hunt that little bitch down."_

"_Dean," Sam retorted more forcefully this time attempting to gain his attention. _

_Finally getting him to tear his eyes away from the television, Dean pressed a button on the remote turning it off. _

"_Alright, well it looks like you're going to have to leave town without me," he explained, placing the remote down. _

_Sam frowned. "What are you talking about? I'm not going to leave you here."_

"_Hey, you better take care of that car," he started, "or I swear, I'll haunt your ass."_

_The younger Winchester didn't find his musings to be all that hilarious, however and expressed to him that it clearly wasn't funny. _

"_Oh come on, it's a little funny," Dean responded lightheartedly. "Look Sammy, what can I say man, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story." _

"_Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options." _

"_What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm going to die and you can't stop it," Dean answered more serious this time._

"_Watch me."_

Sam pulled himself back to reality, but still focused on Dean's face. He always seemed to have the same argument with Dean when it came to death. There was never anything that could be done and Dean didn't want anyone's help either. Even though he expressed a want to survive during his last few days, Sam always figured that deep down inside, Dean knew there was nothing that could be done even if he wanted there to be. Perhaps it was the reason he made no attempt to escape Hell when it was offered to him on a silver platter. Dean cheated his way out of death once before and it seemed rather futile to cheat what had already come to pass. Maybe he felt he didn't deserve redemption.

"It's good to see you Dean," Sam offered.

Dean blinked slowly and tilted his head slightly to get a better look at Sam. It was as if he wasn't sure whether it was a dream or that Sam was really there. A miniscule glimmer of hope shone through his eyes but disappeared as quickly as it arrived.

Then younger hunter figured his niceties weren't going to delay what he needed to do any further so he figured he'd just cut to the chase.

"This Castiel guy seems like the real deal. He sent me here to talk to you," Sam explained. "He says he can help you."

"He's lying, Sam," Dean answered as if he had responded to it a million times.

"He was able to send me here."

Dean delivered a disturbingly irritated grimace and turned to Sam. He almost looked close to pounding him into the dusty, scorched ground. Sam could swear he saw smoke emanating from his clothing.

"He's lying!" Dean growled, sending Sam backwards on his feet. "None of this is happening!" he continued, "you're not here, he was never here and I'm tired of these twisted-ass games! Just get the hell away from me!" he screamed into the horizon to the invisible force, amused with what was going on.

Sam was taken back by his reaction. His screams seemed almost desperate and tired. It made him wonder what was constantly happening to him during his present stint. Before he could move forward to explain himself further, he was jolted back to his own realm. Sitting up, Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead. Castiel was sitting across from him at the table, observing him.

"Pleasant dreams?" he asked.

Sam frowned. "Not exactly. What the hell's wrong with him?"

Castiel seemed disappointed and genuinely upset, almost as much to suggest perhaps he could feel what Sam was feeling.

"Dean's confused. The place has that effect on some, depending on the level of hatred for the individual," he began. "Your brother is probably one of the most hated there. He's become Public Enemy Number One and everything he's ever hunted has come back to hunt _him_… and it isn't always physical," he explained.

"So what do we do?" Sam asked, swinging his legs over the bed.

"He can't leave unless he wants to and… you were my last hope, Sam Winchester. There's nothing we can do."

A sinking feeling overtook Sam as he heard those words. Maybe the window _had_ closed and there _was_ no hope left for a soul that was just as tormented and conflicted before it was subjected to a vile underworld of eternal damnation. But the glimmer of hope he saw in Dean's eyes told him otherwise and sometimes he just couldn't be left to his own vices.

"_Watch me."_

End.


End file.
